


Trade All My Tomorrows

by Moriavis



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Meta!Len, Plot, WIP, canon compliant up to S3E2, effects of time travel, time travel changes everything
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-07 19:46:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8813920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moriavis/pseuds/Moriavis
Summary: Disturbed by dreams of a life that wasn't his own, Leonard heeded Dr. Alchemy's call and learned two things:
1. His life was nothing like it was supposed to be.
2. Barry Allen had taken the most important person in his world away from him.





	1. The Call

**Author's Note:**

  * For [joyouslee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/joyouslee/gifts).



> Okay, guys! Another WIP is exactly what I needed! /o\
> 
> First thing's first: thank you, as always, to saekhwa and dungeonmarm for the betas, because they always make my stories ten times better.
> 
> Secondly, this story came about because of a tumblr meme. The prompt was: 'I wish you would write a fic where Barry finds out how his timeline change affected Len, Lisa, and the Rogues.' 
> 
> My brain gets tugged around a lot by current canon, so although I started this immediately after Flashpoint ended, it's taken me this long to get anything written.
> 
> Lastly, this fic will go up in rating as we progress (mostly for porn/potential violence) and Barry and Iris are romantically involved, so I think I'm going to drop a warning for future infidelity? With time travel as a tag, it's really hard to tell sometimes.
> 
> Anyway, thank you guys for reading, and I hope you enjoy! (And joyouslee, I hope this was something like what you were looking for. <3)

~*~

Leonard took a slow, deep breath as he listened to the _click click click_ of the dial as he waited for the tumbler to fall into place. The thunk he heard brought a satisfied smirk to his face, and he eased down the handle of the safe. When the door swung open, smooth as butter, Leonard pulled the stethoscope from his ears, folding it carefully before he draped them around his neck.

Personal safes weren't a particularly lucrative hit, but it had been a slow Tuesday evening and he needed to keep up his skills. 

He slipped a diamond ring in his pocket and left the safe wide open, just to unsettle his target. If they'd actually wanted any of their valuables protected, they would have invested in a better safe. 

He had an hour before either of the tenants were expected home, but he packed his tools and rose to his feet. He'd taken enough of a risk coming on his own—he didn't particularly like taking a larger risk with the possibility they might be back sooner. He went out the back door that they'd left unlocked and courteously locked up behind him as he passed.

A simple B-and-E used to amuse him, but he wondered for a second if he'd made it too easy by giving himself too much leeway. Choosing the right amount of time was tricky. Too little time and things got messy and dangerous. Too much time and the thrill was gone.

Having the Flash in Central had spoiled him.

Leonard went to the safe house he'd prepped for the job and stripped out of his black clothes, choosing jeans and a gray hoodie to wear as he threw his work clothes in a bag to be washed later. He'd been careful at the scene, but you never knew what pieces you left behind. Once he was ready, he grabbed his helmet and took his bike, conveniently hidden behind the building, out to the road. The drive was satisfying in a way that the theft was not, but his annoyance settled tension back into place on his shoulders, tightening his neck.

He ignored the discomfort and continued to drive to the safe house he intended to use for the night. There was a garage for his bike, a washer for his work clothes, and a bed where he could sleep, and it was good enough for now.

~*~

Leonard stalked up the stairs, ice coating his fists when he reached the double doors that lead into city hall. It was locked, but that didn't concern him, not when there was someone important waiting for him. He rested his hand against the wood and allowed the ice to flow from his fingers and out, sinking into the wood grain and coating the metal of the doorknob. It grew brittle beneath his hand, and he drew back, curled his fingers into a fist, and punched the door with all his strength. The wood splintered, the door swinging back on its hinges, and he stormed into the building, his steps echoing on the marble floor.

Lisa sat in a plain wooden chair, her ankles primly crossed, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Her jaw was tight, the line of her back unyielding. Good girl. She always knew when to watch for an opportunity.

"C'mon, Rogues," Leonard drawled, ice spilling out over his fingers and up his arms. "You know how this song and dance goes. Let my sister leave, and no one gets hurt."

"I don't think you understand what's going on here, Citizen Cold." Fallout, wearing his specialized environmental suit. "You don't have any leverage."

Leonard raised a hand, hoping to stop Fallout from doing anything stupid. "Neil, think about what you're doing. Lisa's got nothing to do with you."

"But she's got everything to do with you." Fallout peeled off one of his gloves, revealing a skeletal, glowing hand. "The Rogues are in charge, Snart. Maybe this time you won't ignore our warnings." He stepped closer to Lisa, and Leonard could see her hair start to singe from the heat of Neil's palm, the skin of her cheek growing red in seconds—

Leonard opened his eyes and sat up, rubbing a hand over his face. The safe house was dark, the weak pulse of a flickering streetlight barely lighting the curtains. He'd never been the type to have vivid dreams, not since he was a child, but over the last two weeks, his dreams had gotten more and more powerful, leaving him groggy and a little confused when he woke up.

He threw off his blanket and went to his bathroom, flipping on the overhead light, although it made him squint. After a moment, he turned on the faucet and splashed some water on his face. Dreaming about radioactive metahumans. Being a hero. It was bizarre.

He didn't even have a sister.

Leonard splashed his face with water one more time and flipped off the light.

_Leonard Snart. Time to wake up._

Leonard whirled around, automatically casing the room, even though he knew there was no one there. There was dim moonlight filtering in through the one small window to the right of the sink, but he turned on the light one more time, checking behind the shower curtain just to make sure he was alone.

A low rumble of sound swelled behind him, and Leonard turned back to the sink, frowning when he heard the screech of metal on glass. As he watched, letters appeared on the mirror as if they were being scratched into the surface. 

_ALCHEMY_

Leonard resisted the urge to roll his eyes and looked around the empty room one more time. "Another meta. I'm shocked." He folded his arms over his chest and cocked his head to the side. "Is this a fancy way to say hello? I'm not a fan." 

There was no response, the room silent except for the sound of traffic on the road, filtering through the window.

He hummed and ran his fingers over the mirror, his skin catching on the etched letters. "I'll give you points for style." There was no real answer to that, either, other than an itching at the back of his mind, a call for something unknown, for something almost familiar. Alchemy.

Leonard's phone vibrated in the other room, and he stirred, leaving the bathroom and closing the door firmly behind him. He grabbed his phone from the nightstand. There was a single unread text message that read simply, _Tomorrow. 11:30pm._

The number was unknown, but he was familiar with his father's tactics, even though he often disagreed. _Understood._ He turned off the phone and made a mental note to dispose of it and get a new burner after the heist.

Again, the whisper sounded in his empty room. _Wake up, Leonard Snart. It's time._

Whether it was the new meta or his own subconscious grabbing hold of an unsettling encounter, Leonard wasn't sure. Until they chose to reveal themselves, he had other, more pressing things to worry about.

~*~

Leonard leaned over the map again, pointing at the blueprint. "You always want to go through heavy traffic areas. We could start on the roof, go through the stairwell access—"

"When we're doing my heists, son, we do it my way." Leonard looked up from the map to glare at Lewis, but stopped arguing, his jaw tightening in frustration. Lewis and his occasional forays into Central made it more difficult to maintain his agreement with the Flash, something that Lewis took great satisfaction in. Anything to disrupt Leonard's preferred way of life. "If you're so worried about casualties, learn how to be a better actor," Lewis continued. "I don't know why you've taken your 'super villain' identity so seriously. Everyone knows your face now. Thought I taught you better than that."

"I like the challenge," Leonard bit out.

"If you liquidated even half of the things you stole, you wouldn't have to worry about the damned 'challenge.'"

"You mean, if I gave you access to my spoils, you wouldn't have to plan your robberies?" Leonard shook his head, shooting Lewis an angry look. "You raised me to be cold. I'm not gonna hand something to you that you haven't earned."

Lewis scowled. "Watch your mouth, boy."

"I'm too old for your lessons, _Dad_. Let's get this over with so you can get out of my city."

"Your city?" Lewis planted his hands flat on the table, his mouth thinning. "Maybe I've let you have too much freedom. Mouthing off like this. I'm thinking I should move back home and take some of that length off your leash."

Leonard averted his eyes and flexed his fingers, taking a deep breath and counting to ten. "That's unnecessary. We'll do this heist and part ways just like always. No reason we can't stay chill."

Lewis shook his head, but he relaxed, and that was what was important. He raised his hand and Leonard flinched before Lewis set his hand on Leonard's shoulder, patting him heavily. "You remember your responsibility and we'll be fine. I'm family, Leo. We stick together because we're all we got."

Leonard shrugged off Lewis' hand, curling his fingers around the handle of his cold gun, taking a deep comfort in the way the grooves of the handle fit into his palm. The core hummed, and it almost felt like it was eager to be used. Maybe he was so eager to use it he was projecting his feelings. 

"I remember our agreement," Leonard said eventually. "We'll get in and out, and then you'll be gone tomorrow. Hope you've got some money left, you won't be able to use the money from tonight too fast."

Lewis' hand on the table curled into a fist. "I think I need to remind you who taught you that in the first place."

"Let's get this done." Leonard stepped away from the table, his eyes flitting from Lewis' face down to his hand. "This score'll be easy. Nothing to worry about."

"Assuming your little good faith behavior you put on for the Flash doesn't get in the way."

Leonard shrugged, refraining from mentioning that it was always Lewis who screwed up on their shared heists. "It won't."

Lewis nodded once and folded the blueprint. "You know the plan. Keep it together."

Leonard turned his face away from Lewis, scanning the wall across the room, and his gaze lit on a poster for some video game. _Alchemy Labs is the place to go!_ It read. _Make science seem like magic!_

Lewis snapped his fingers, and Leonard jerked his attention back. "Get yourself ready to go," Lewis said. "It's time."

It was a small job, all things considered—just Leonard and Lewis, no other crew involved. Leonard still wanted to go through the roof—the security system had a flaw he would have been able to exploit—but he'd already tried bringing it up to Lewis, and no amount of arguing was going to change Lewis' mind. He'd always preferred walking in through the front door.

It was late enough that there was only one security guard. He wasn't at his post, their timing working out for a change, and Leonard took the opportunity to check the cameras, tracking the guard's progress on his rounds.

"Let's keep moving." Lewis jerked his head, gesturing toward the stairwell. 

Leonard nodded sharply, taking point and moving toward the stairs. He wanted the heist to be quick and efficient. The less time they spent in the building, the less likely there would be a complication. Fewer complications meant that they wouldn't have to worry about the Flash. The kid was always antsier when he learned Lewis was in town. Maybe because Leonard started skirting the edges of the rules they had agreed on, less willing to play the game. Some casualties were worth the relief that came when Lewis left.

"Can you disarm the security system around the safe?" Lewis asked.

"With what? A fuse box?" Leonard pinned Lewis with a glare.

Lewis grabbed Leonard's arm once they reached the landing and spun him around. "Don't get smart with me, boy," he snarled. "You think you're too big to be taught a lesson, but I can still prove you wrong."

Leonard looked away, resentment simmering in his chest and making his head throb. He was forty-four years old, and Lewis still made him feel all of thirteen. 

"I can't disable the security system from here," Leonard responded through gritted teeth. A muscle in Leonard's jaw jumped as Lewis stared pointedly at him. "Sir."

"That's better." Lewis let Leonard go and stepped away. "You remember who's in charge, you hear?"

"Yeah. I hear." Leonard resumed his climb up the stairs. "I'll get us through the safe. We'll have one minute and thirty-eight seconds to grab what we came for and get out."

"What are we waiting for? Move faster."

Leonard kept his mouth shut and continued moving, slowing down when he reached the fourth floor so he could ease the door open and peek out for the security guard. The hallway was clear, so Leonard stepped out of the stairwell, Lewis following a second after. The safe they were hunting was in the third room, hidden behind a reproduction of a Van Gogh painting. People were so predictable.

Assuming the security guard finished his rounds in the next five minutes—and how Leonard hated assuming; it made everything so sloppy—they would be able to take the money and leave without any casualties drawing the Flash's attention. Of course, their faces would be on the security cameras, but it didn't matter. He'd lay low for a while, maybe head out of town while he waited for the situation to cool down.

They reached their destination, where it took Lewis twenty-five seconds to pick the lock, and entered the empty office. Leonard went straight to the Van Gogh and pulled it off the wall, confirming the location of the safe. At least their intelligence had been accurate. He pulled out his cold gun and aimed it at the dial, freezing it solid.

"That's right." Lewis piped up behind him, his voice hard and derisive. "Freeze the safe before I even unlock the damned thing." Leonard cut an annoyed look at Lewis from the corner of his eye before he brought the butt of his cold gun down on the combination dial, sending frozen slivers of metal tumbling to the ground. Lewis pushed Leonard aside and pulled open the broken safe door. "You always have to use your snow gun, don't you?"

"Cold gun," Leonard corrected. Lewis snorted, but remained otherwise quiet as he filled his duffel bag full with the cash from the safe. "Thirty-six seconds, _Dad_."

"I'm not worried." Lewis zipped up the duffel bag and looked over at Leonard. "Unless you're talking about getting a look at your super powered boyfriend." Leonard glared at Lewis again, biting back an insult as Lewis hoisted the duffel bag over his shoulder. "Don't give me that look, Leo. You think I'm blind?"

Leonard ignored him, going back to the office entrance and looking into the hallway. "You going to stand there and mock me, or we gonna get out of here?"

Lewis pushed past Leonard into the empty hallway and headed to the other side of the floor. The plan called for reaching the stairwell on the other side of the building, where there was a fire escape they could reach on the second floor. From outside, they'd be able to keep an eye on the police response time and get to their getaway vehicle. Leonard watched out for the security guard as Lewis hurried down the stairs, and he felt the adrenaline rush begin when they pushed out onto the fire escape. Leonard grinned as he took a breath of humid midnight air, unable to hide his smile when it became obvious that their burglary was successful. The sirens were just cutting through the air when they reached their getaway car, and Lewis hid in the backseat with the money as Leonard slid into the driver's seat, pulling his seatbelt on and driving through the empty late-night streets. He didn't rush—he didn't need to.

They drove to an old warehouse on the waterfront and abandoned the car, taking Lewis' old station wagon to a cheap hotel, where they paid for a night in cash. It was a tiny room, barely enough for the two full-size beds that took up the main portion of the space. Lewis checked the curtains on the window and then sat on his bed, dumping the money out of the duffel bag so he could count it. Leonard checked his watch, counting down the minutes until he'd be able to leave and vanish back into the city.

"Twenty-five thousand dollars," Lewis said, his voice rife with satisfaction. "Not bad for an hour's work."

Leonard grunted in response, crossing his arms as he stared out the window. Now that Lewis was finished counting, the room was quiet, and it left Leonard on edge, waiting for the shoe to drop. The adrenaline of the chase was leaving him, and he was weary down to his bones, his eyes aching. 

He squinted at Lewis. "Satisfied?"

"Don't worry," Lewis said. "I'll be out of your hair first thing tomorrow morning. That's what you wanted to hear, right?"

Leonard shrugged. "Good enough." He looked back toward the street, but it was empty, not even the slightest sound of a siren in the neighborhood. "I'm taking off. Think you're safe enough now." 

He didn't wait for Lewis' response as he strode to the door, his skin feeling itchy and too tight. The air was still and humid, thick with the promise of rain, and Leonard grimaced in annoyance. Even worse than the weather, though, was the sense of anticipation he just couldn't shake.

_Leonard Snart._

Leonard froze at the sound of the voice, his finger resting on the trigger of the cold gun hidden beneath his coat. There was no one out on the street with him, just a slow suspicion that whatever new metahuman this turned out to be was trying to drive him crazy. 

_Find me._

Leonard squeezed his eyes shut when he was assaulted by memories again—ice, death, failure—and he stumbled forward, pushed by sheer, desperate _need_ , a compulsion to find the speaker and get him to stop. 

Leonard wandered almost without seeing, walking until he reached an uncovered manhole in one of the city's construction projects. He climbed down the ladder, descending into the sewer. It wasn't normal, but the part of Leonard's mind that cared about that sort of thing seemed muffled, overridden by an intense sense of urgency. He _had_ to find Alchemy. Nothing else made sense to him anymore.

He had memorized Central City's sewer system from a very young age—he knew the oldest tunnels well, and even through the haze, the insistence drumming in his mind that he find Alchemy, he moved with a surety borne of hours poring over old blueprints. The tunnel that he followed opened up into a large intersection of pipes and open space, and he squinted, raising his hand in the light coming in from the street entrance.

"Welcome, Leonard."

Leonard turned toward the voice, flexing his fingers in anticipation before he rested his fingers lightly on the rail leading down the stairs. He took each step slowly, lingering on the edge before moving down to the next one. "Alchemy, I presume."

"Come." There were three hooded figures kneeling before another, with a mask that reminded Leonard of medieval plague doctors. "You have made your way here."

"Despite my better judgment." Leonard looked around and crossed his arms over his chest. "What is this? A cult? Gotta say, not a fan."

"We have all lost something." The masked person Leonard assumed was Alchemy stepped forward, beyond the half-circle of cloaked people, and withdrew his hand from his cloak, presenting a stone that seemed to glow in his palm. "Here's your chance to take it back."

"Thanks for the thought," Leonard drawled, choosing to remain in place while Alchemy advanced, while his instincts told him to run. "I appreciate the invitation, but I'm cool with what I've got."

"The Flash stole something important from you, Leonard." Alchemy's hand remained outstretched, the stone glowing brighter between them. "He has manipulated your life as though you were a puppet on strings. If you are, indeed, satisfied, you may leave."

Leonard arched his eyebrow. "You compelled me to come here to give me a pitch?" He looked around again—the cultists kneeling on the floor hadn't moved, and the air was still and quiet. Alchemy didn't even make a sound, other than his robes brushing across the floor. "What, exactly, did he take from me?"

"To know that"—Alchemy inclined their head, the mask catching the light and glinted almost gold for a second—"you must decide on the path of your awakening."

Leonard tilted his head as he thought. He didn't have a bad life here. There was the Flash to keep him challenged, Rogues that followed his rules. He had enough money that he could retire in comfort, if he so chose. His father still came around and that wasn't ideal, admittedly. Above everything else, though, he was curious. Barry Allen was, at his heart, a good kid. What could he have done to draw the attention of this weird group? And what could he have taken from Leonard that Leonard could have missed?

Well. Lewis always did say he was too curious.

"What the hell." Leonard shrugged and took a step toward Alchemy. "Show me what you've got."

Alchemy set the stone in Leonard's hand, and all Leonard could see was light.

~*~


	2. Bereft

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dr. Alchemy wasn't going to be the worst of Barry Allen's problems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took so long, but I finally have a chapter of something, it's so nice. I've hit some difficult plotting issues in all of my long stories, which--boo. I want to write them aaaaaall.
> 
> Beta'ed by saekhwa, who is, as always, generous with her time.

~*~

Leonard's eyes flew open, and he gasped for air that wouldn't come. Light filtered in through the veil that imprisoned him, stained in gold and stinging his skin with pins and needles, as if he'd been asleep. He clawed out, his arms and chest and face covered by a thin layer of something that felt like a second skin. Whatever was covering him like a shroud tore under the force of his fingers, and he feverishly stripped out of it, pulling the veil away from his face until he could breathe.

He sat up, blinking in the dim, yellowish light from a nearby street lamp, and then he rubbed at his arm, frowning when a sticky, viscous substance clung to his fingers. Upon a second look, he realized it was all over him, and he clawed at the film that covered him, shedding it like an old skin. He wasn't in the sewer anymore. Alchemy and his followers were nowhere to be seen. Leonard scrambled away from the mess he'd awakened in, moving until his back hit the brick wall of the building behind him. He squeezed his eyes shut and ground the heels of his palms against his eyelids.

He was freezing. The cold radiated off him like steam into the humid night air. His head pounded. His mouth was parched.

"Lisa," he whispered, and memories crashed through him like a tidal wave. He struggled to breathe, trembling as he tried to make sense of what he now knew. 

Before his current life—his empty, thankless, miserable life—he'd had Lisa. He'd been a hero in another life, and they'd been happy, right up until the moment when a metahuman had killed her. The bloodthirsty rage Leonard had experienced at her death left him shaken—when he'd killed, he'd done it methodically, only when necessary, and with very little consideration. But now… Now he could remember the burn of bile at the back of his throat, the savage pleasure he'd taken in freezing her murderer limb by limb until he'd lain shattered in pieces on the bank floor.

Before that, though there was more. A fainter memory, none the less real for the distance. Mick. The Vanishing Point. The Oculus.

Three different lifetimes packed his pounding head. Leonard pulled his hands away from his face and flattened his palms against the asphalt as he tried to force his thoughts into some semblance of order. Alchemy had said the Flash had taken something important from him, but Leonard had had no idea. No idea that Barry had taken the only person Leonard had ever loved.

Leonard scrambled onto his hands and knees and vomited, his stomach clenching over and over again, even when there was nothing left to expel. When he finally stopped retching on air, he leaned back and rubbed the back of his hand over his mouth, coughing and gasping for air. His breath escaped in a rush of steam, and when he pulled his other hand away from the ground, he heard a small clinking sound. When he looked down, his hand print was on the ground, perfectly outlined in a fine layer of frost. Ice crept upward from his fingertips, inching over his knuckles. Leonard tilted his head and pressed his hand to the brick of the wall next to him, watching as ice spread out from his touch.

He staggered up to his feet, leaving icy hand prints on every surface he touched, and he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. The memories were there, rattling in his head, and he focused on sifting through each lifetime, compartmentalizing what he could. He wouldn't be able to hide anywhere if he was leaving ice behind him like breadcrumbs. He flexed his fingers, and somehow, he could feel the ice retreat, some instinct pulling that familiar power away from the surface. He took one step forward and then another, narrowing his eyes as he looked around one more time.

In the mess of his shed skin, Leonard found his cold gun. His heart pounded with something like relief when he reached down and picked it up, the handle of the gun fitting his palm like it belonged there. Another swift look showed him that he was alone, and for a moment, he wondered about Alchemy, about the catch Leonard was now expecting. Was he alone because he woke up early? Because he failed some unspoken test? Or would this be considered a favor, to be reciprocated at a later time?

And why the hell hadn't he asked those questions before he accepted Alchemy's offer? 

Because Alchemy had mentioned the Flash, that was why. Leonard frowned at himself. Pathetic.

He looked down and brushed off his jeans, taking one last moment to steady himself before he headed toward the street light, squinting even in the dimness of the early evening twilight. He was still in Central, and—looking at the street signs—he wasn't more than a mile or two away from one of his safe houses. He needed to find out what date it was, how long he'd been out, find a way to control the ice with more than luck and instinct. He needed to find Lisa.

He didn't trust himself around people at the moment and didn't want to draw attention to himself, so he chose to walk, even though the humid Missouri air made his shirt stick to his skin and his jacket made him a little too hot. There was a newspaper stand on the corner. A glance at the front page told him that he'd lost three days to Alchemy and his magic. He shook his head at his own eager stupidity and continued onward to his safe house. No one stopped him. No one even looked in his direction, and when he finally made it to safety, he locked the door behind him and sank onto his sofa in relief.

Hunger tightened his stomach, but for the moment, he ignored it. He had to get his head figured out first. He propped his elbows on his knees and rested his forehead on his interlaced fingers.

In this life, Lisa never existed. In the last life, he'd failed to save her from the Rogues. In the first one… there was no way the Time Masters had gotten their hands on her. Leonard had made sure of that. He hoped. If the rest of the team on the Waverider had done their job, she would have been returned home safely.

The fact that he could remember the first timeline at all must have had something to do with the fact that he'd died outside of time. It was the only explanation he could think of with such little information. Even that annoyed him—being forced to guess because there was no other way to know.

His fingertips started icing over again, and Leonard shook his hands out. He stood, focusing on his first and most immediate problem. He was starving and thirsty. He grabbed a glass from the cupboard, frost immediately decorating the surface when he grasped it. He stuck it beneath the faucet of the sink, barely waiting until it was full before he gulped it down. The last mouthful of water turned to slush on his tongue, but fortunately, it was easy enough to swallow. He squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated on his hand, pulling once again from memories of his previous life, and he exhaled a relieved breath when he opened his eyes and discovered that the frost was gone. He'd have to concentrate in order to eat anything hot, so he made himself a sandwich, pausing every time the cold threatened to expand out of him. He could already see the advantages of having both his cold gun and these new powers, if he could only learn the control he needed to keep his abilities a secret.

He managed to eat his sandwich without any problems, although the focused control he held over himself was starting to give him a headache, and then he sat back down on the sofa. With the requirements of his body met, it was easier to think, easier to filter through his memories and piece together those other bizarre lives. Alchemy had said the Flash was responsible for him losing Lisa, but Leonard couldn't figure out how that was possible.

_"There is good in you,"_ Barry had said, and Leonard had stored those words in the back of his mind, even though he'd known they weren't true. He was a criminal. He enjoyed stealing, he enjoyed skirting the law. He had only sacrificed himself at the Oculus because he'd owed Mick a debt that he would've never been able to pay otherwise. He hadn't heard from Mick in months. Maybe he was still out there on the Waverider, maybe he'd found his way there without Leonard by his side, and that… that was good. Better for him.

In Leonard's other memories, he'd only seen Barry once or twice, usually from a distance, when Barry was working on a crime scene. He was a good kid. 

Leonard frowned and started to piece together a plan. They weren't exactly friendly with each other now, but there was once a time the Flash and his team had helped Leonard save Lisa's life. Lisa had taken a shine to Cisco, and they were heroes. Maybe Barry was involved in whatever had happened that had changed Leonard's memories, but Leonard was sure, down to his core, that Barry would help him save Lisa. It was what heroes did.

~*~

As always, Barry was easy to find. Leonard took his favorite booth in the Motorcar, where he pretended to drink coffee as he watched the police station. He curled his hands around the mug—the coffee froze instantly—and cast his gaze back across the street. 

Barry kept odd hours, sometimes leaving early, sometimes staying later, and Leonard imagined it had a great deal to do with his Flash efforts. For someone who could run faster than anything Leonard had ever seen, Barry was notoriously terrible at time management. When Leonard saw the lights in the second floor lab go off, he put money on the table for the coffee and headed out the door.

Barry's face changed when he saw Leonard standing outside the restaurant, his eyes widening in surprise when Leonard inclined his head and skirted around the corner of the building, fully expecting Barry to follow him.

He wasn't disappointed.

When he turned around, Barry was standing behind him, his expression lost somewhere between confusion and delight. "Snart!" Barry edged a step closer to him, and Leonard frowned, effectively freezing Barry into place. "I didn't expect to see you."

"Why would you expect to see me?" Leonard crossed his arms over his chest, tilting his head as he watched Barry.

Barry shifted awkwardly again, wiping his palms on the back of his jeans. "Oliver told me you were with the others in the Waverider. Are you taking a break or—"

"They didn't tell you." He supposed they wouldn't, but for some reason, the thought that Barry knew he was gone but not _gone_ seemed… unfair. 

"Tell me what?"

Leonard felt tension uncoil from his shoulders, and he took a deep breath before he dropped his arms. "Nothing, Red. It's not why I'm here."

"What's going on, Snart?" Barry's eyes narrowed and focused on Leonard, as if he were pushing aside his surprise to give Leonard his full attention.

Leonard hated telling anyone anything so bluntly, hated being obviously desperate, so he remained silent, trying to figure out any way he could say something without looking like he needed Barry to believe him. There was something niggling at him, though, and he narrowed his eyes on Barry again. "My sister's gone."

Barry stepped forward like he couldn't stop himself, his eyes widening again in genuine surprise. "Lisa's gone? Like kidnapped or—"

Leonard stalked closer and pushed Barry against the wall, his hand flat over Barry's chest. Barry shivered, his next breath coming out into the air as steam. "You know."

"Know what? You're acting strange—and your hand is freezing." Barry reached up to knock Leonard's hand away, but Leonard let go before they connected and took a step back.

"I thought I was going crazy, at first," Leonard admitted. "But you know. You knew her name. You knew I was on the Waverider."

Barry shook his head. "I'm not following you."

"She doesn't exist, Barry." Leonard's voice was flat, emotionless. He couldn't let himself lose it, not when she was gone, not when there wasn't anyone he trusted who could watch his back. "I looked. No birth certificate, no social security, none of her aliases. It's like she never existed." He licked his lips, his eyes locked on Barry, something in him thrumming with what might have been hope. "But you. You knew exactly who I was talking about. You even knew about the Waverider, and I—"

Barry averted his eyes and hugged himself, rubbing his upper arms. "If she doesn't exist, how do you know?"

"I'm gonna sound crazy," Leonard admitted, but Barry shook his head.

"Try me."

Leonard didn't even know where to start. "Five days ago, I didn't know anything about Lisa or the Waverider. I was having dreams. About being a hero, or— I don't know. I was found by someone named Alchemy."

Barry ran a hand through his hair and looked up toward the sky. "Alchemy. Of course." He realized Leonard was still watching him and shook his head. "I've seen the name around. Go ahead."

Leonard shook his head. "When I woke up, I remembered. I have a sister, but I don't have a sister. I was a hero, but I'm not a hero. And there was another me, who went with the others on the Waverider. I—remember three distinct lives. She was there. She _existed_." He splayed out his hands in entreaty. "We haven't always seen eye to eye, kid. I know that. And I know that Lisa wasn't exactly a law-abiding citizen. That was my fault. But saving people is what you do. Help me." Leonard clenched his jaw around the next word, but he thought of Lisa, how he couldn't help her by himself. "Please."

Barry looked back at Leonard, and his face was an open book like always, filling with a dawning awareness and a deep, terrible grief. "I'm sorry, Snart. I can't."

Leonard turned away to give himself a moment, to breathe. His hands iced over, and he slid them into the pockets of his jacket to hide them before he turned back around. "I know I'm asking for something that sounds impossible, Barry. But with your powers, our memories, your friends—"

Barry shook his head. "I don't know how you remember what you remember, but I can't do what you're asking." He clenched his hand into a fist and pressed it to his mouth. "I'm so, so sorry."

Leonard's heartbeat pounded in his ears, making him dizzy, but he couldn't give up. He couldn't give up and forgive himself for doing it. "I wouldn't have come to you if I had a choice. If I could get the attention of my friends, maybe I could fix it. I don't have that option. This is a Hail Mary pass, I get that. But you have to try." He shook his head. "I know there'll be theoretical physics involved, maybe string theory—"

Barry exhaled a shaky breath and dropped his hand, looking at Leonard with damp eyes. "I went back in time. I messed everything up."

Barry's words froze Leonard into place. "You can travel through time."

Barry squeezed his eyes shut and nodded. "I can go fast enough to create a wormhole to the past. I did that, because—I guess the why doesn't really matter to you. It was the wrong decision, and I tried to fix it. When I came back to the present, almost everything was the same."

"Almost." Leonard scoffed. "Are you telling me what I think you're telling me?"

Barry swallowed. "Cisco had a brother. His name was Dante. Before I went back, he was fine. After… I found out that he was hit by a drunk driver." Barry stepped closer to Leonard, reaching out to touch, but he dropped his hand at the last minute, obviously thinking better of it. "I can't go back again. I don't know what else it'll break."

Leonard pinned Barry with another narrow look. "Living and dying isn't the same as never living at all." He shook his head again, ruthlessly forcing himself to stillness. "It's funny. Alchemy said you took something important from me. I didn't believe it. Barry Allen, he's a good kid. A pain in the ass, but heroes are like that." One step closer, and Barry didn't move back. They were sharing the same air, intimate in a way, the way they always were when they understood each other best. "I'll ask one more time. Help me save Lisa."

A muscle in Barry's jaw clenched, and his eyes were wet when he met Leonard's gaze again. "If I can't go back for one of my best friends, how can I go back for you?"

Something in Leonard curdled at Barry's words—hope, the sheer belief he'd somehow clung to that Barry was different. That was fine. Leonard wasn't a stranger to disappointed expectations. He'd known all along that the Scarlet Speedster was a liar. He just needed the right kind of pressure, and he'd fold, just like anyone else. "You'll do it because Cisco and I aren't the same. Cisco is your friend. He cares about you. I don't." Leonard pulled his cold gun out of his jacket and pressed the muzzle to the underside of Barry's chin, the core whirring in readiness. Barry tensed, but there wasn't much he could do this close other than listen. "Lisa was the best of me, Barry. If you want to play this game, you'll find out exactly what kind of man I am without her."

He held Barry's gaze for another long minute, almost daring Barry to say something, and then he turned away, tucking the gun inside his coat again. He heard the wind displace when Barry ran away, but he dismissed it. If Barry wasn't willing to help, Leonard would have to find a way on his own.

~*~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Say hello to me on [tumblr](http://www.moriavis.tumblr.com), yo!

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to come talk to me on [tumblr. I'm always happy to say hello.](http://www.moriavis.tumblr.com)


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